by Tara Sheets
“What about you?” Jordan nudged her foot with his. “Tell me your story.”
“My story?” Kat suddenly noticed a loose thread on the quilt. She started working at it with her fingernail. “I came here several weeks ago—”
“—No. I don’t mean what you’re doing here. I mean before.” He fixed her with a steady gaze. “Where did you grow up?”
She continued pulling at the thread until he laid a warm hand on hers.
“California,” she said, steeling herself. “My mother died when I was a baby, and I had no other relatives. So I went into the system. Foster homes.” There. She said it. And it wasn’t even that hard. She waited for the usual prick of shame that came with the telling—that ever-present feeling of being “less than” other people—but this time it didn’t come. Maybe it was because she knew he’d had a difficult childhood, too. Telling him had been much easier than telling other people, which was strange. He was just easy to talk to.
Jordan was quiet for a while, which was a relief. The usual pity or surprise wasn’t there on his face, which she’d half expected. He just seemed accepting.
“And what was that like?” he asked softly.
Kat gave him a look. “What do you mean, what was it like? It was foster care. Foster homes. Some better than others. None of them great.”
“But I thought babies usually got adopted by couples. At least that’s how I thought it worked.”
Kat scoffed. Maybe that’s how it worked on TV. In real life there were no guarantees. There certainly hadn’t been for her. “The system doesn’t always work that way. It might if you’re very lucky, and if you’re a normal kid. But when you don’t bond with people, and you talk to animals? Not exactly ideal circumstances.”
Jordan sat up to lean against the headboard. “What happened?”
Kat pulled the quilt around her. “I was very young when I was placed in what was supposed to be a permanent home. I think the couple genuinely wanted me, and it might’ve worked out, except . . .” She trailed off. She barely remembered any of it, except what she was told later by the social workers. “By the time I was four, I’d started to show signs of my affinity toward animals, and it bothered them.”
“Bothered them how?” Jordan asked. “I mean, you were just a tiny kid.”
“A tiny kid with the ability to communicate with the family dog.”
“So?”
“So . . . I never spoke to them and mostly only spoke to the dog. They thought there was something wrong with my brain, so they put me in child therapy until I was in first grade. I had a standing weekly appointment, and every Tuesday night when my foster mom went off to her book club and I went off to bed, my foster dad had a little weekly appointment of his own. He was having an affair with Millie, the lady next door.”
“So what happened?”
“I told my foster mom all about it,” Kat said with a shrug. “I was too young to know any better, and I was only relaying what I understood from the dog. I kept telling her that Millie came over on Tuesday nights to put Dad to bed. Anyway, it all went downhill from there. My foster mom freaked out. They fought all the time, after that. They used to argue about what to do with me sometimes, but then they separated, and I was put into another home.”
Jordan took her hand. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t have to. It was comforting just to have him there, listening without judgment. And it was so easy to talk to him. Kat had never felt this way around anyone.
“My last memory of them was the dog whining on the porch when I left,” she continued. “I think I missed him the most. There was something wrong with me. I communicated better with animals than my own foster parents. No wonder they thought I was broken. It wasn’t until later that I started connecting more with people. But even that was hard, because by then I’d learned not to get attached. Things could just change at any moment, and most of it was beyond my control. Animals were a great comfort to me, but I couldn’t really share that part of myself when I was younger. I learned to pretend it didn’t exist, because I needed to fit in. Nobody wants a freak show.”
He squeezed her hand. “Don’t say that.”
Kat glanced at him from beneath her lashes. “You have to admit it’s kind of freaky.”
“No,” he said firmly. “I was surprised when you first showed me how you talked to that crow, and then the other animals. But it’s not freaky. It’s cool. My mom used to believe in all the Holloway magic, so why the hell not?” He said it like it was no big deal, and his easy acceptance warmed her in all the right places.
“Where are your parents?” Kat asked.
He shook his head. “They went to join a hippie commune in Malaysia, last I heard.”
“Wow. Talk about leaving it all behind.” It seemed impossible to contemplate. Even though Kat hadn’t been there that long, Willowbrook Lavender Farm was the best place she’d ever lived. She couldn’t imagine wanting to abandon it. “When did you last see them?”
“The day I left for college. So, thirteen years ago, give or take.”
Kat stared at him, but his expression was hard to read. She drew her knees up and hugged them to her chest under the blanket, wondering how his parents could be okay with that. Wouldn’t they want to know their son? To be in his life? “Are they happy there?”
Jordan gave a hollow laugh. “The last message I got from my mom was to tell me they loved it and were never coming back. They mortgaged this place to the hilt. I think the money just ran out, so they split. They were just going to let the bank foreclose on it, right under my grandmother. So yes, I think moving to Malaysia appealed to their ‘free-spirited’ ideals. No bills to worry about and nobody to take care of except themselves.” If there was a tiny edge of bitterness to his voice, Kat couldn’t blame him. Jordan had had to grow up fending for himself, and he’d become an amazing person. And the tragedy of it was that his parents would never know just how amazing he was.
They were quiet for a long time, but it was a comfortable silence. He wrapped an arm around her and drew her closer. She leaned her head on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.
“Thank you,” Kat said before she could stop herself. “For what you said earlier about my animal magic. I’m glad you don’t think I’m whackadoo.”
His chest shook with silent laughter, and he tightened his arm around her. “Believe me, Kat. I grew up with ‘whackadoo.’ You are nothing like that. You’re perfect.”
Her face flushed with heat at his unexpected praise. “Emma and Juliette seem to think I’m related to them, but I have no idea. We’re trying to track down who my mother was, and they think they found a lead in one of their relatives.”
He looked genuinely pleased. “That’s great.”
Kat felt a twinge of anxiety. “It’s only great if it’s true. What if it’s not? What if they think I’m related, and then I turn out to be just Kat. Just Kat, by herself, like before. Like always . . .” She trailed off.
“Would that be so bad?” Jordan asked gently.
“Yes.” She frowned. “I mean, no. I don’t know.”
“Look.” He shifted to face her. “If it turns out that your mom was a Holloway, great. Then you’ll know you’re related to your friends. But if it turns out you’re not”—he shrugged—“it doesn’t matter.”
“How can you say that?” She rubbed her feet together under the covers. “Family matters more than anything. No one knows that better than a person without one.”
“But you’re still you, regardless of who they are.”
Kat squeezed her eyes shut. He didn’t get it.
“Listen to me,” Jordan said fiercely. “You can make your family.” Kat had the sudden feeling he wasn’t only talking about her. “Not everyone gets the right start. But you learn and you grow, and you learn to gather the people around who you can trust. The people who support you and lift you up. The people you can rely on. That’s the family that matters.”
“Is that what yo
u did?” Kat asked, searching his face. “Is that why you want to go back to New York? Because you have people you trust, and a life that’s everything you ever wanted?” She didn’t want him to go, but she wasn’t going to fault him if that’s really what he had back there. To find true happiness and be living the life you’ve always dreamed about—that must be something.
Jordan ran a hand over his face and glanced away. “I have a pretty sweet deal going on back there. A great place, a successful business, absolutely no family drama. It truly is the city that never sleeps. There’s always something going on. Things to see and do. It’s never quiet, like it is here.”
“That sounds like fun.” For you. She’d already done the party scene in California, and she knew it wasn’t for her.
“It is fun,” he said earnestly. “You can never get bored there.”
Kat smiled. “When you surround yourself with needy animals, trust me. Boredom doesn’t often factor in.”
“You should visit me in New York,” Jordan said suddenly.
“Maybe.” Except she was pretty sure she never would. New York was nice, but she wouldn’t be visiting him there. It would just be too hard. She already knew she was going to hurt when he left.
With a heavy sigh, Kat ran her hands through her hair, massaging her scalp.
“What’s the matter?” Jordan asked.
“Nothing.” She searched for a diversion. “Except I’m starving! You know what we need? Chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream. The really good kind where you can taste the grainy brown sugar in the cookie dough, you know? With the extra-large chocolate chunks mixed in?” The idea was almost enough to distract her from the sobering thought of Jordan going back to New York City.
“No, thanks. I’ve got my favorite dessert right here.” He leaned over and kissed her. “Besides, I need real food. Let’s order pizza. I’m too lazy to get out of bed.” He yawned and stretched his arms up, drawing attention to the defined muscles of his shoulders and biceps.
“You don’t look lazy.” Kat was momentarily riveted by the way his ab muscles flexed and bunched when he stretched. “Not with all that going on.” She waved her hand at his torso and arms.
A wicked smile. “You make me lazy. I should be out there working, but for some reason I get around you and all I want to do is fall into bed.” He gripped the edges of the quilt and yanked it away. Then he lunged for her, wrapping his arms around her in a bear hug, tickling her ribs with his fingertips. Kat giggled, then laughed, then all-out shrieked, squirming under him until their humor evaporated into something far more delicious and satisfying than even the best cookie dough ice cream.
Chapter Twenty-Six
“That girl doesn’t deserve a scorching hot kiss in the rain like that,” Juliette said, propping her feet up on the coffee table in Emma’s living room. “It’s wasted on her. She’s flighty and can’t make up her mind, and Ryan Gosling’s been pining away for her for years.”
Kat scooped another handful of popcorn as Emma and Juliette argued over The Notebook. They had invited her over for Chick Flick Movie Night, and they were deep in a discussion about the pros and cons of the film.
“But they truly love each other,” Emma insisted. “She’s just confused because her parents didn’t approve of him.”
“See? She’s spineless!” Juliette said with conviction. “Yet another reason she doesn’t deserve his devotion.”
“Kat, what do you think?” Emma asked from the corner of the couch. She was curled under a knitted throw the exact color of a summer sky. Juliette was on the overstuffed chair, with Hank and Buddy asleep at her feet.
Kat was trying to think of something diplomatic to say when an object on the coffee table caught her eye. It was the silver key with the clover design. “Hey, isn’t that the old key I found in the attic a few days ago?”
Emma glanced at it. “Yeah. It keeps showing up in the house. Every time I turn around, it’s there.” She set her cup of cocoa on the coffee table. “This morning I found it in my makeup drawer. And when I went to bed last night, it showed up under my pillow. The house is trying to tell us something, but we can’t figure it out.”
Kat picked up the key, turning it over and over in her hand. The green crystals sparkled in the dim light. “I wonder what it’s for?”
A door shut firmly upstairs.
Juliette sat up fast, startling the snoozing dogs at her feet. “Shh! The house is talking.”
Another door shut upstairs. Then another.
“That’s how the house talks?” Kat wrinkled her nose. “By slamming doors?”
Suddenly all the lights in the living room turned off, plunging them into darkness.
Hank ran to the couch and jumped into Kat’s lap. She laid a comforting hand on his back. “Um, does this happen often?”
“Pretty much,” Emma said. “It’s got lots of opinions, and it has no problem letting us know.”
Buddy let out a soft whine.
A light in the hallway turned on.
“Well, that’s our cue,” Juliette said, standing. “We need to follow where the house leads.”
Kat followed Juliette and Emma down the hall, the dogs trailing close behind her. As soon as they reached the end of the hall, another light turned on in the kitchen. They moved into the kitchen, then all the lights blinked out again.
“Now what?” Emma asked.
Moonlight pooled in through the kitchen window, but it was still too dark to see much.
“Maybe the house is confused,” Juliette said.
A kitchen cupboard opened, then snapped shut.
“No,” Emma laughed. “It’s definitely not confused, thank you very much.”
An outside light by the kitchen door clicked on.
“It wants us to go outside?” Juliette asked. “That’s different.”
Kat walked toward the door with Hank close at her heels. She peered through the window into the dark garden. The light flickered, as if it was impatient. Turning the knob, she stepped outside, followed by Emma and Juliette. When the outside light shut off, the three women were left standing in the yard in the moonlight.
Kat thought she heard whispers in the wind. She had the sudden feeling that something monumental was about to take place.
“What now?” she asked quietly.
The house seemed to settle in a frustrated hmph.
“We can’t very well go any further if you don’t tell us where,” Emma said half in amusement, half in exasperation.
Suddenly there was a loud caw and Edgar swooped out of the sky to land on Kat’s shoulder.
“Hey there.” She reached up to pet his glossy feathers. “Where’ve you been?”
Edgar rose into the air and circled overhead, then flew to an overgrown area of bushes and weeds at the base of the house. He landed on a dead branch and let out another loud caw!
The house lights flickered.
Kat watched Edgar intently. “He’s calling us over there.”
They followed the black bird until they were standing near the far corner of the house. Weeds had grown in a riot all over the ground, and vines had snaked up over the roots of dead bushes. Edgar hopped to a lower root near the weeds and damp earth. He tilted his head and waited for Kat expectantly.
Kat pointed. “He wants us to go there, but that doesn’t make any sense.” She was certain he was trying to show her something, but all she could see were bushes and weeds.
Emma gasped. “I think I know what we’re looking at.” She began scraping at the ground. “This house has a root cellar. Remember, Jules? Grams mentioned it a time or two, but we never used it.” She started yanking at the roots, trying to clear away the overgrowth.
Juliette laid her hand on Emma’s shoulder, and Emma stood back to let her through.
“Do your thing, Jules,” Emma said.
Juliette stepped directly into the brambles and waited. The gnarled mass of roots seemed to loosen, then slowly slide away, one by one. It was entrancing, watch
ing the way they swayed as though they were moving underwater, making way for Juliette. Soon she was standing on an old metal hatch. The area around her had cleared.
“Wow,” Kat breathed. “That was . . .”
“Amazeballs?” Juliette grinned. “Mother Nature and I go way back.”
Emma bent to lift the hatch. “It’s too heavy.”
Kat and Juliette grabbed on, and together they all pulled. With an echoing groan, the metal hatch opened, revealing a stone staircase that led down into the root cellar.
Kat followed them into the darkness with a shiver of unease. She wasn’t really afraid; she was just deeply curious. What could the house be trying to show them? Hank had picked up a small twig and was following close at Kat’s heels.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Kat noticed the oddest thing. The room wasn’t shrouded in darkness. It should’ve been, but the faint glow from outside stretched across the walls and floor, pooling over the stones, allowing them to see. It was as if the moonlight had followed them inside.
The root cellar was musty and small, with a floor constructed of loose, flat stones. It had a low ceiling and a couple of empty barrels in the corner. Nothing else.
Kat turned in a circle. “Huh.”
“Exactly,” Juliette agreed. She tipped her head back and spoke to the ceiling. “What are we doing down here, house?”
Buddy started snuffling around one of the corners. He made a little whining sound as he scratched at the stone floor.
“He’s done that before,” Emma said. “When the house wanted me to find something.”
One of the stones wobbled under Buddy’s foot.
Juliette went over and lifted it with both hands. All three women stared down at what looked like . . .
“A keyhole?” Kat asked.
Hank scampered to the hole and dropped something beside it. Earlier, Kat thought it was a twig, but she now saw that he’d been holding the clover key.
“Hank, you are brilliant,” Kat said with admiration. She took the key, placed it in the lock, and turned it.
Nothing happened.